Page 158 of Surfer's Paradise

She gasped, hips twitching at the vibration.

“Don’t move,” he said, firm. Possessive.

Then he knelt behind her, gripping her hips so tightly she’d wear the bruises tomorrow, and thrust into her—slow, deep, brutal.

“Fuck.”

The word ripped out of him as her heat closed around him. He braced one hand on the headboard, the other gripping her waist like he could pin her soul to the mattress.

Every thrust was a brand.

Every stroke a mark.

Isaac was buried deep, grinding into her slow and rough, his jaw clenched against the ache in his ribs. Her moans were high and frantic now, the toy beneath her only adding fuel to the fire.

It fucking burned.

Every movement burned through his side like a warning.

But he didn’t stop.

Couldn’t.

Not with Rosie like this—open, writhing, whispering his name like a prayer and a curse.

“You think about me like this?” he ground out. “You lie in your bed and touch yourself thinking about my cock inside you?”

“Yes—Isaac—God, yes—”

He leaned down, pressing his chest to her back, hand tangled in her hair now, yanking her head to the side so he could kiss her mouth from above.

“You’re mine,” he growled. “You hear me? This body—this pussy—mine.”

“Yes—yours—”

The words shattered him.

He drove into her harder, deeper, the pain in his ribs a distant scream under the roar in his blood. He didn’t stop. Wouldn’tstop. Not until he’d left her wrecked and full and unable to forget who she belonged to.

The toy buzzed between them, her thighs shaking, her whimpers breaking into sobs of pleasure.

“Come again,” he demanded, voice ragged. “Now.”

And she did.

She screamed his name, convulsing beneath him, and Isaac followed, slamming into her once, twice, before emptying himself with a groan so deep it sounded like a threat. Pain and pleasure collided in a flash of white heat.

When it was over, he collapsed onto her back, panting, still inside her, his arms wrapped around her like chains.

Mine.

He kissed her shoulder, her spine, the side of her neck.

And whispered it again. “Mine.”

And even through the fire in his ribs, even through the haze of it all, he knew—

There was no going back. She’d just let him in. Not just her body—he’d had that. Was buried in it. But everything else. The way she looked at him. The way she opened her mouth for him. The way she let him push her past her own limits—without hesitation. Without fear.

---